


Midnight Thoughts

by klixxy



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Art, Everyday Thoughts, Personification, Poetic, Random & Short, Shorts, artistic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-23 23:38:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 1,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21089714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klixxy/pseuds/klixxy
Summary: In that moment, I wonder…I wonder if nature resents us.If she hates us for poisoning her veins, if she despises us for breaking all of her bones, if she detests us for ripping open her skin.I wonder if Earth loathes us for ruining her beauty.And despite the phone in my pocket, the earphones I treasure so dearly, the great city that I rely on every day…I cannot help but long for a world where the trees could spill out over the land, the dirt lumpy and deep, the sky not defiled with dust but fresh with wind, the river singing as loud as it may wish.I cannot help but wish for a world where nature could dance free, where Earth could be whole.





	1. I Wonder...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NoGoodTuna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoGoodTuna/gifts), [RoughGem](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoughGem/gifts), [blookyy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blookyy/gifts), [SassySatan666](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SassySatan666/gifts), [absolutely_average](https://archiveofourown.org/users/absolutely_average/gifts), [Lol_bnhalover](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lol_bnhalover/gifts).

> So.... uhmmmm this is supposed to be my short free writes of things that I just think of every day. Most of them will be poetic, some of them will be just a sentence, some of them will be poems, some just random words.
> 
> They're just everyday thoughts, everyday wonders, everyday questions
> 
> And, ummmmm I just wanted to say thanks for everybody who's helped me along with way ever since I first started on ao3. I love to write and you guys all helped me through a lot, even with just a few comments and just hitting that kudos button for me.  
So thank you.  
A lot.  
I might not know who you are and you might not know who I am, but these short moments have meant a lot to me and will continue to mean a lot.  
Thank you.

My feet lift off of the ground, then is pulled down, then back up again. The steady rhythm of the beat of my shoes against the flat ground of the trail in time with my heartbeat echoes within the chambers of my mind. The sun reaches out its warm arms through the shadows of the trees, the floor spotted gold and blue. The sky stretches on forever, clouds woven into its deep, endless blue. The wind gently tugs at my hair, pulling at a few loose strands.

The river murmurs to my right, flowing across rocks and dirt. My worries fly away with the wind.

A lark stands in the water, just a few feet away from me. It slowly lifts a foot, moving with a melody known only to its ears. It’s spindly limbs and thin neck are nothing but shadows under the light of the sun, making its way gently across the water. People walk past me, people with places to go, things to do, but I come to s stop, eyes transfixed on the lark. It ruffles its feathers, stepping farther and farther over the wide expanse of water. Seconds pass, minutes, even, but I am lost within the graceful, purposeful steps of the lark, the deep curves of its wings, its neck. People walk past with but a glance, and I can only wonder how they can miss this tranquil beauty, lost under their noses.

The lark pauses across the river, sweeping its elegant neck to one side, staring far off over the whispering water. The gray water sparkles in the sun.

It is still, looking at something away, away.

I wonder what it is looking for, looking at.

I wonder if it can see something I cannot, a world I cannot.

I wonder what it is thinking, what it wants, what it longs for.

I wonder if it feels these strange things called emotions, if it is lost, lost, lost.

The lark stands, and for a long moment, I watch.

The wind breathes against the still water, and the lark turns away, continues walking.

Slowly, I turn as well, looking back at the lark as it gracefully walks away one last time before I lift my feet and carry on.

The river murmurs a melody next to me as my feet move forward step after step. A crossing made of smooth rocks sticking out of the river comes into view and I step onto it. As I step from rock to rock, a thought pops into mind.

Would the river catch me if I fell?

My feet come to a stop upon a single, man-made rock.

I stare over the peaceful river, rippling on, on.

I wonder…

Where does it go?

Where does it start?

What has it seen?

The wind caresses me and for the first time I see the barriers.

They are just walls on the sides of the river, but they are chains.

I wonder… would this river have been different if we had never existed?

Would it have been roaring, rageful, still, soundless, murmuring?

Would it have sung its song to the world, beautiful, invisible notes, melodies?

I reach the other side.

I walk down the other end, retracing my steps, eyes fixed on the water, tumbling on.

The flowers sway in the wind.

I wonder…

What do they blossom for?

They are breathtaking - arrays of deep, overflowing color, painting great arcs of beauty across the land as they bend with the wind.

But what do they bloom for if no one bothers to look at them?

What do they sway for if no one even stops to smell them?

I reach another bridge over the water, stepping onto a rock, watching the water twist by at my feet.

A lark, perhaps the same one, stand on another rock in the middle of the bridge.

I step forward.

Another step.

Another.

I am so close, I could reach out and touch it.

And then, in a split second, it spreads its wings - and flies.

It drifts through the air as if there is nothing holding it back, floats away, away on the wind.

In a second, but what seems like forever, it disappears around the corner.

In that moment, I wonder…

I wonder if nature resents us.

If she hates us for poisoning her veins, if she despises us for breaking all of her bones, if she detests us for ripping open her skin.

I wonder if Earth loathes us for ruining her beauty.

And despite the phone in my pocket, the earphones I treasure so dearly, the great city that I rely on every day…

I cannot help but long for a world where the trees could spill out over the land, the dirt lumpy and deep, the sky not defiled with dust but fresh with wind, the river singing as loud as it may wish.

I cannot help but wish for a world where nature could dance free, where Earth could be whole.

I cannot help but yearn for a world where

Humans

Never 

Existed.


	2. Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A thought pops into my mind, a sightless, soundless thing, words written in invisible ink across the broad expanse of my tongue.

A thought pops into my mind, a sightless, soundless thing, words written in invisible ink across the broad expanse of my tongue. Letters string together in a pattern known to none yet to all. 

It's a strange thing, out thoughts; the things our brains conjure up in the darkness of the night, the tiredness of the morning, the energy of the day.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
What are thoughts but sentences, words, places together in strange ways, fit together into an invisible puzzle.

They weave together pictures, worries, fears into our heads of things that aren't there, or are they?

What makes out thoughts different from that of a cat, a dog?

Where do those great stories come from; where do those towering fears arise from; where, what, how, when...  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
Thoughts are simple.

Letters, words, sentences.

Yet they are complex,

lives, actions, emotions.

So you tell me:

What are your thoughts?

What do you dream of at midnight?

What things do you think of that stay with you forever?

What....

is your story?


	3. Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The heart is a strange thing.

The heart is a strange thing.

Science explains it as nothing more than a cluster of muscle,s nothing more than an organ, deep within our bodies. 

And yet it can feel as though knives have carved it hollow and as though poison is eating it slowly away. It can make you feel unexplainable, innumerable things: joy, sorrow, anger, grief... things words can never truly explain.

It is a petite, fragile thing, our hearts, so easily forced to a stop and yet...

Yet it has the power to move millions and bring thousands to tears. It has the power to write new paragraphs in history and stir rage into hundreds. 

It has the power to 

share a story, 

sing a song,

tell the legends

of our past

our present

our future.


	4. Rainy Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beats of my heart serves as a beat to the melody fo the rain, the trees, the wind...

Listening to the sound of the world around me, a hundred different sounds, hidden among the underbrush, I close my eyes and allow, for a just a moment, for my mind to 

drift

away.

The beats of my heart serve as a beat to the melody of the rain, the trees, the wind as I taste the cool rain against my dry, cracking lips.

Here, alone yet the farthes thing from such, I can let all of my worries slip away and become a child once more,

dreaming a dream

that

cannot 

be dreamt.


	5. Chill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A deep chill drifts from the sky where the endless stretch of blue hides in its midst hints os smudging gray and silvery snow.

a deep chill drifts from the sky where the endless stretch of blue hides in its midst hints os smudging gray and silvery snow.

it wafts down, swirling with the wind, whispering to the trees, to the few leaves, gripping onto half-bare branches of matted wood.

it dances in the sky like a fairy with pale, cold skin and unbearable, unforgivingly freezing fingers.

it casts a spell over the millions of beating hearts and breathing limbs laid like scattered petals below.

it falls to the ground, floats its way around, and searches hungrily for an uncovered patch of skin.

and when it finds it, it sinks its tiny maw into the soft flesh and seeps like a ghost, invisible, invincible, into the core and sucks out all of the warmth it can find.

it lurks there, feasting away on the heat that beats right next to a rapid heart, 

right until

summer

breathes its life

back

into the world.


	6. The Greatest Joy of Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sun melts into the sea, deep, molten reds and oranges sinking into the wide expanse of endless blue, blue, blue.

The sun melts into the sea, deep, molten reds and oranges sinking into the wide expanse of endless blue, blue, blue. Long, sweeping strokes of a pink and yellow brush are painted across the horizon, seeping through the canvas and balancing precariously on the still waves lapping against the sandy beach like flower petals in bloom. Purples and blues and blacks mix and churn, always changing, moving across the sky, mirrored in the waves that follow them below.

A hint of sparkling stars shimmer between the cracks of day and night.

The sun, even dying as it is, feels warm against my skin, a crackling fire dancing gracefully within my chest, amongst the stars.

The ground is hard and my legs dangle off the side of a rocky cliff.

My hair still rips wet like rain from the sea, despite the sun's rays slowly drying it off.

Sitting here, watching the stars rise and the sun sink in a melting array of color and light, the most beautiful thing that my eyes can see is not

the sky,

the sun,

the sea,

the stars,

but your smile.

The warmest thing not

the sun,

the heated rock,

but your hand in mine.

The happiest feeling not 

the splash of the waves,

the light of the sun,

the beauty of the sky,

but your loud, long laugh.

The greatest joy of mine

always,

always,

_always,_

you.


	7. Look

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every person you pass on the street has a story.

Every person you pass on the street has a story.

Every ant that scurries past your foot has a wish.

Every cloud that drifts in that blue, blue sky has a wonder.

Perhaps the person that bumped into you rudely and didn't apologize was late to his uncle's wedding.

Maybe the ants that trail across the concrete in lines of tiny black bodies wish for nothing more than a safe shelter where giants no longer dwell.

That cloud in the sky may have seen so much more than you can imagine from its place in the great skies above, gazing down at the world from the stars.

Perhaps the constellations that twinkle in the dark of the night hear your wishes.

There are whole worlds around you that you can see,

understand,

save,

create,

if you only look

a little

closer.


	8. Freedom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freedom.
> 
> What is freedom?

freedom.

what is freedom?

it is the feeling of letting go, of forgetting the weights that are forever chained on your limbs.

it is killing the anxieties that crawl to your ears in the dark of the night, whispering thoughts - thoughts that you wish were gone, thoughts that haunt you forever - into your mind, your heart. 

it is sitting on top of the world and knowing that there is nothing to stop you.

it is a drug, corrupting people into faithful loyalty.

it is joy, racing through your veins.

it is pain, when you realize it was nothing but a dream.

freedom.

it feels unobtainable, a creature laughing cruelly in the distance, always just out of reach.

it is a maze, unescapeable, layering chain after chain onto your collars until you are unable to take another trembling step.

it is a murderer, 

a liar, 

a monster.

its arms feel like safety.

its lies make us happy.

Perhaps that is why we fall for its dark embrace nevertheless.


End file.
